The walls have long since collapsed into low, sod-covered ridges, and the building that once measured 58 feet by 24 feet now reads in the landscape as a rectangular depression roughly 12.5 metres east to west, its outline softened by centuries of grass and subsidence. Yet the church sits at the centre of a still-active graveyard, which gives the whole site an odd layering: twentieth-century headstones occupy the interior, a large chest tomb has been built directly into the eastern end of the south wall, and recent interments have disturbed the fabric further along that same wall. The result is less ruin than slow absorption, the old structure gradually becoming part of the burial ground it once served.

The name is the key to the church's origins. John O'Donovan, the nineteenth-century scholar and place-name authority, rendered it as Teampull Uí Brigdean, meaning the church of the O'Bredons, a family whose name attached to the site long enough to survive into documentary records. By 1559 it appears in the Fiants, the records of royal grants and pardons from the Tudor administration in Ireland, as Templibryden, held alongside the parish of Tuathclugin. A later spelling, Templebrydan, appears in 1568. In 1703 the lands here, listed together with Aney, Ballenloghey, Kilkellan and several other townlands, were granted to a W. Neave in trust under a Patent Roll. T. J. Westropp, the prolific Limerick antiquary who surveyed the church in the early 1900s, noted that as late as 1840 the east part of the south wall, some 14 feet in length, still stood to a height of around 9 feet, described at the time as old-looking masonry.

The site sits within the parish of Coonagh in County Limerick. Today the walls stand only to between 0.6 and 0.8 metres in height, best preserved along the western end, where the outline of the building is most legible. A small pile of architectural fragments survives in the south-west quadrant of the interior, and a larger heap of rubble stone lies within the eastern end. To the east of the church, a few sill stone fragments, the flat horizontal stones that form the base of a window opening, have been displaced; one stands upright beside a headstone, and a smaller piece sits near a plot with modern kerbing. None of this makes for dramatic viewing, but for anyone interested in the faint traces that medieval parish churches leave behind in Irish graveyards, the site repays careful attention.